


nobody loves a spaceman

by helenecixous



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: ACTUAL FLUFF, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, No Angst, look at this fluff, this is gay af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenecixous/pseuds/helenecixous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘Ave you gotta be back tonight?” Gillian asks, once they’ve both calmed down again. Caroline shifts and lets go of Gillian’s arm and Gillian’s slightly disappointed, but then she notices how Caroline’s skirt’s ridden up her thigh just slightly, and she reckons she can live with the absence of her hand. Not that she’s gay - that’s Caroline’s thing - she just happens to find Caroline easy on the eyes.<br/>“No, I don’t think so,” Caroline’s saying breezily. “Why? Got something in mind?”<br/>“Just that I got some wine, an’ it’s six, so it’s me drinkin’ time officially. An’ if you’re stayin…” she leaves the question half posed, but she knows what Caroline’s going to say because she’s already off the sofa and heading to the kitchen by the time Caroline’s finished agreeing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nobody loves a spaceman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firelordazulas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelordazulas/gifts).



“She just thinks she can- she can just-” Caroline is seething, searching for the words that would demonstrate exactly how pissed off she is. “She just thinks she can  _ decide  _ what I do, it's as though she'd rather me still be with that dense excuse of a husband than with someone who actually makes me happy, just because that someone is a- a bloody woman!”

Gillian is sitting on the sofa, watching Caroline pace around the living room. 

“You know, she's always been like it,” Caroline says venemously, jabbing her finger in the direction of the chair her mother had occupied just half an hour ago. “Always.” She puts on a shrill voice, trying to imitate Celia. “We’re all very sorry that Kate died, but now you can move on, find a nice man-” she breaks off.

Gillian’s nodding and repeating “yeah,” at every breath Caroline has to stop to take.

“She’s poison, that’s what she is,” Caroline says, coming to a standstill and flopping down on the sofa next to Gillian. “And I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of her thinking she can dictate my life. I have a doctorate! I’m the headteacher of a school that’s doing well! There’s plenty of positive things for her to focus on but she never,  _ ever  _ has. She chooses to focus on the negatives, on the things she disapproves of.”

“Bein’ gay ain’t a negative thing,” Gillian points out. “Like, I wouldn’t ‘ave said that was a negative or a positive thing. It’s just… a thing. It is what it is, an’ all that.”

“No- I know, I know,” Caroline sighs, rubbing her forehead. They both let silence fall between them, both of them watching the fire. The house is quieter than it’s been in a really long time - both children asleep, parents gone. Caroline smiles and turns her head, looking at Gillian. “How are you, anyway?” She reaches out and rubs Gillian’s forearm gently. “How’s everything with Robbie?”

Gillian’s grateful for the shift in conversation. She’s not very good at dealing with Caroline when Caroline’s busy winding herself up. “They’re, uh… Yeah. They’re alright. As alright as it all makes sense to be, I s’pose. I don’t think anyone’s surprised.”

Caroline shrugs, turning to face the fire again. “Does it matter what anyone else thinks?” she asks. “Really?”

“Raff’s alright with it. I don’t think me dad’s really that interested. And they’re the two I was worryin’ about. Didn’t want Raffy to end up pissin’ off to live w’ Robbie again.”

“Well your happiness comes first, no matter what Raff thinks. Although I am glad he’s not being difficult about it… It’s not a whole heap of fun when your child decides he doesn’t like what you’re doing with your personal life.”

Gillian snorts and nods. “Oh yeah, I remember how Lawrence was.” She grins to herself, and then looks at Caroline. Caroline’s hand is still on her arm. “What on earth would make you think that callin’ a kid  _ Lawrence  _ is gonna make any sorta sense?” she asks.

Caroline’s jaw drops and she’s looking indignant, even though she’s laughing. “What’s wrong with Lawrence?” she asks, squeezing Gillian’s arm.

“Aw come on, Caroline!  _ Lawrence?  _ It’s no wonder he’s difficult. You did alrigh’ with William, an’ then you go an’ call the other one Lawrence!”

They’re both laughing. A year or so ago, Gillian would’ve meant it as a dig, and Caroline would’ve been stung and she would’ve bitten back, but they both know that the friction between them is more for show than for anything else by this point, and they both enjoy it that way.

“‘Ave you gotta be back tonight?” Gillian asks, once they’ve both calmed down again. Caroline shifts and lets go of Gillian’s arm and Gillian’s slightly disappointed, but then she notices how Caroline’s skirt’s ridden up her thigh just slightly, and she reckons she can live with the absence of her hand. Not that she’s gay - that’s Caroline’s thing - she just happens to find Caroline easy on the eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Caroline’s saying breezily. “Why? Got something in mind?”

“Just that I got some wine, an’ it’s six, so it’s me drinkin’ time officially. An’ if you’re stayin…” she leaves the question half posed, but she knows what Caroline’s going to say because she’s already off the sofa and heading to the kitchen by the time Caroline’s finished agreeing.

 

There’s always been something about Gillian that’s drawn Caroline to her. She’s miles away from the usual sort of people she spends time with, but that’s kind of refreshing. Gillian’s always there to bring her back down to earth when she needs it - she’s a good, calming presence. Although she’s incapable of making a good decision, (and Caroline isn’t sure that Gillian knows what a good decision looks like, let alone how to make one), Caroline’s almost endeared.

 

“So, when’d you end up comin’ out? Celia said somethin’ about it not bein’ a surprise, so I figured you’d said somethin’ earlier, because you don’t exactly strike me as a typical lesbian.”

They’re drinking wine from mugs, and they’ve argued about both of those facts.

 

 

  * __Where’d you get this from?!__


  * _Down supermarket?_


  * _It’s fermented red water, Gillian._


  * _It’s wine! If you don’t like it, you don’t ‘ave to drink it! We’re not all barmy enough to blow thirty quid on a bottle of wine. Anyone who spends more than fourteen quid on it is mental._


  * _Are you- are you pouring it into mugs? I bought you some nice glasses for your wedding!_


  * _Are you gonna criticise everythin’? Robbie took ‘em when he moved out!_



 

 

“Oh I don’t know,” Caroline says, smiling down at the mug she’s holding. “When I was seventeen? Eighteen?”

“So how’d you end up married to the Thirsty Disaster?” Gillian asks, smiling when Caroline starts to laugh.

“Oh you know… My mother voted for Margaret Thatcher, she’s not always been quite so charming. I suppose I have your father to thank for that. It was all ‘it’s a phase!’, and ‘you’re too young to really know’. And then along came John, who was… marginally successful, we- well, we liked each other. And-”

“So he reached,” Gillian said, nodding. “An’ you settled.”

“He  _ what?”  _

“Y’know! Reachin’ an’ settlin’? When you’ve got two people in two different leagues. One reaches, the other settles! You can’t tell me you ain’t ‘eard of that before!”

Caroline’s looking at Gillian like she’s speaking another language, and she just sighs and shakes her head, and Gillian  _ almost  _ resents it.

“An’ it was all workin’ just fine, apart from the fact that you’re a raging homosexual - oh shit can I say that? Is ‘homosexual’ still okay?” Gillian looks a little panicked, her cheeks are pink from the wine and the warmth and now the embarrassment. “I don’t keep up with - shit.”

Caroline’s laughing properly. She watches the confusion and cautious relief creep into Gillian’s expression, and that makes her laugh harder. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks, and now Gillian’s flustered.

“Don’t it change like weather? What we’re allowed to say, an’ what’s not good?”

“You’re fine,” Caroline said, shaking her head again and wiping her eye with the back of her hand. “That’s fine. You see, the thing with John, is that you can’t help but… Well, you can’t help but feel sorry for him, can you? I mean, he’s so pathetic. He just wanders around looking like a kicked puppy and then before I even knew what was happening, we were engaged, and it worked well enough with the boys.”

“So, you’re tellin’ me that you faked it, for what? Eighteen years?”

They’re both laughing again, and Caroline leans closer to Gillian. “You’ve slept with him enough times to know that sex with John is... more like a fumble,” she says, and then they’re both falling apart, giggling like teenagers talking about sex for the first time.

“Oh you poor, poor thing,” Gillian says, reaching for the bottle and refilling both of their mugs. She’s trying hard not to think about Caroline being unsatisfied for eighteen years, and trying harder not to think about the women she’d messed around with over the years.

“John’s the only man I’ve ever been with… intimately,” Caroline says, and her voice is soft like she’s telling a secret. “And he - well, he didn’t set the bar very high. It was  _ good  _ to stop hiding.”

“As a lesbian,” Gillian finishes for her, and then grins. “So you kept it quiet for all those years. Christ.”

Caroline just grins and sips her wine, before she hums and looks at Gillian. “And what about you?” she asks. “Do you just have a preference for men, or are you keeping it all a secret?”

Gillian splutters, shooting Caroline a wide eyed look. “I- what? A preference for men?”

“Well you're not seriously about to attempt to convince me that you're not interested in women,” Caroline says, acting for all the world as though she's totally oblivious to how shocked the other woman looks. “So I figured that you're either bisexual or a closeted lesbian.”

Gillian shakes her head. “How the  _ hell  _ did you know?!” she asks, supposing that it’s probably better to just be honest rather than trying to deny it. Caroline already knows that she killed someone, and Gillian figures that there's not much else she could admit to that might shock her.

“Oh please,” is all Caroline offers, waving a hand dismissively while an amused smirk tugs at her lips. “Did you think I was born yesterday? I didn't get a doctorate by being completely and totally oblivious.”

“Takes one to know one then,” Gillian mutters. “I dunno, I hadn't given much thought to labels. Never seen much point in them.” She’s quiet for a moment, and then she looks at Caroline and shrugs. “Bisexual? I guess?”

Caroline nods and sips her wine pensively. She kicks her heels off and shifts on the sofa, leaning back properly and tucking her legs beneath her, and Gillian spends a little bit too much time looking at the curves of her calves and the way her toes are pointed slightly. Of course, Caroline just  _ has  _ to look as demure and as composed as possible, even when she’s drinking wine from a mug and pleasantly tipsy.

“So, uh…” Gillian says distractedly, tearing her eyes away and looking up. Thankfully, Caroline’s looking at the fire, and Gillian lets herself believe -  _ hope -  _ that the other woman hadn’t noticed her staring. “How long ‘ave you known? About me?”

“Hm?” Caroline asks, turning to look at her with a small smile. “Well… about thirty seconds after you called me a snotty bitch.”

“ _ When  _ are you going to drop that?” Gillian asks, tipping her head back and looking at the ceiling. “What was it I was? Brain dead low life trailer trash? Bit judgy, ain’t it?”

Caroline chuckles and shrugged. “You asked how long I’ve known. That’s how long. It isn’t my fault that it just happened to be then-” She’s cut off when Flora starts wailing, and she glances at Gillian. “Give me strength,” she mutters, but she doesn’t really mind. She stands up and puts the mug down, and disappears upstairs.

Gillian sits back and listens to Flora’s cries and if she listens carefully she can hear Caroline’s soft coos and murmurs. A few minutes later, Caroline’s coming downstairs, Flora in her arms, and she heads into the kitchen to warm up a bottle of milk. She’s talking softly to the baby, and Gillian decides to get up.

“Everythin’ alright?” she asks, leaning on the doorway to the kitchen. Flora’s on Caroline’s hip, and Caroline’s taking the bottle from the microwave with her free hand.

“I think so,” she says, bouncing her daughter just slightly as she checks the temperature and expertly screws the lid back on. “Yeah, I think we’re alright, aren’t we?” She’s speaking to the child, and Gillian smiles. Caroline picks up the blanket that’s been left on the kitchen table, and supports the bottle while Flora suckles from it. She smiles and gestures, and they head back into the living room.

Caroline curls up on the sofa, being careful to wrap Flora up in the blanket and hold her close while she drinks from the bottle, and it’s a while before either woman speaks up again.

“I dunno how you do it, y’know,” she says. “Raise a child on your own like that.”

“Don’t you?” Caroline asks softly, and she’s gently stroking Flora’s cheek with her forefinger. “You raised Raff alone, didn’t you?”

“Well not  _ technically,”  _ Gillian begins, but she trails off when Caroline looks at her.

“Being a presence isn’t the same as being a parent,” she says. “And knocking you about certainly isn’t an example of good parenting.” It’s the first time Caroline’s volunteered to talk about what Gillian went through, and Gillian realises how thick the silence is, how carefully they’re both treading.

“Yeah, well…” Gillian says quietly, shrugging. “It ‘appened. An’ Raff’s a good kid. He turned out alright.”

“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with your Raff,” Caroline says, taking the bottle away and putting it on the table as Flora yawns. “I think you did a very good job. And I see parents every day - mums and dads who are going through divorces, who have got demanding jobs or dying parents. Parents who aren’t going through half of what you’ve had to deal with, and I see how they treat their kids. These kids come to school with uniform that’s not been washed for weeks, and go home to parents who never turn up to parent’s evenings.” She offers Gillian a smile, and Gillian realises she’s been captivated by Caroline, completely incapacitated by the gentle lilt of her voice, and the kindness and softness that she so rarely displays. She’s been caught by surprise at the sudden drop of Caroline’s guard. She can count on one hand the times that Caroline’s shown this softer side of herself.

Flora hiccups, and Caroline looks away, looks down at her and sits her up, wiping the milk from around her lips carefully. She kisses the child’s forehead gently and smiles. “Let’s get you back to bed, hm?” she murmurs, stands up, and takes her back up the stairs. When she returns, her hair’s tied up loosely and she’s stifling a yawn with her hand, but she looks content. She sits back down, and picks her wine back up, and they both sit and watch the fire.

Caroline’s closer to Gillian than she had been previously. She’s curled up again and her knee is touching Gillian’s thigh, and as she settles back into the beaten up cushions, their arms brush. Neither of them move, but Gillian’s aware of the blush that’s creeping onto her cheeks, as though she’s never had a crush before. And it isn’t even like Caroline’s a  _ crush,  _ they’re just friends, and Gillian isn’t even properly divorced yet,  _ and  _ Caroline infuriates her most of the time, so there’s absolutely no way that Gillian’s in  _ any way  _ attracted to her, or even more than fond, and she glances at Caroline and realises that Caroline had said something.

“Sorry, what?” she asks, shaking her head as though she’s trying to clear it. “I was miles away. Start again.”

“Oh it’s okay,” Caroline says, smiling. She looks at Gillian and the shadows that the fire is casting are dancing over her face. Her eyes are soft and her cheeks are pink from the effects of the wine, and Gillian thinks she might be imagining it, but Caroline seems to have leant marginally closer to her. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Gillian asks again, frowning. “What’ve you done to be sorry for?”

“Just for what happened,” she says. “With Eddie, and Robbie. You’ve… Well, you’ve not had much luck with it all. And I’m sorry for that.”

Gillian’s never paused to give that much thought. She’s never been one to feel sorry for herself, she’s just accepted her lot and tried to move on. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t have raised Raff, or kept the farm running, or supported her dad when her mother died. “Ah, it’s alright, really,” she says carefully. “I mean, it’s not, but… you just gotta keep goin’. Mopin’ don’t change shit, an’ it wouldn’t ‘ave done any good.” She smiles, and throws her arm around Caroline’s shoulder, and she’s surprised when Caroline shifts and leans into her, resting her head on the other woman’s shoulder. “You ‘aven’t exactly ‘ad a walk through the park either though.”

“Well, like you said, moping doesn’t change anything.” Caroline pauses and settles into Gillian’s side properly, looking up at her with a smile. “Although not quite in so many words.” She starts thinking about Kate, and Flora, and John, and William, and sighs quietly. Gillian tightens her grip on her arm just slightly, and before either of them know what she’s doing, she’s pressing her lips to Caroline’s temple.

“I think,” Gillian says quietly, “that we’ve both done pretty well, considerin’.”

“I think you’re right,” Caroline agrees, her voice so soft it’s barely there. “And I’m glad that it turned out like this, I think. With our parents…”

Gillian nods, and she’s surprised that Caroline hasn’t moved away and sat back up. “It’s been a bit of an adventure, hasn’t it?” she asks. “I never thought they’d actually get married.”

Caroline snorts, and looks up at Gillian again. “My mother used to be so fickle,” she said. “I thought she’d forget Alan’s name after a week and go back to being a miserable sod.”

“It’s mad,” Gillian hums. “It’s all mad. But then, nothin’ that ‘appens in this family is ever standard.”

“Ah, so it’s  _ your  _ fault then,” Caroline says, her lips quirked into a smile.

“Mine?! No way, if it’s anyone’s fault it’s Raff’s. He set Dad up with Facebook.”

Caroline’s quiet for a minute, and then she sits up, but she doesn’t sit  _ back.  _ “Well, remind me to thank him then,” she says quietly.

“Thank him?” Gillian asks, and she’s suddenly a bit nervous. Caroline’s watching her intently, and she feels a little bit like she’s under a microscope.

“Well, without the situation with our parents, I doubt you’d ever have such a… snotty bitch on your sofa with a mug of wine.”

Gillian grins, and she tries to look away but she finds that she’s really reluctant to. So she doesn’t. “Look. No one said bein’ a snotty bitch is a  _ bad  _ thing. It might even be part of your charm - your never ending list of achievements.” She’s going to carry on, she has  _ every intention  _ of carrying on, but they’ve both leant closer, and fuck, they both know exactly what they’re doing. Their lips meet, and it’s new and unfamiliar and long anticipated, and it’s something and nothing and  _ everything _ all at once.

They part, after what feels like ages, and they just look at each other. And then they start laughing quietly, and Caroline’s shaking her head. “And we can’t even blame that on the alcohol,” she says softly. She’s worried, almost, that Gillian will panic. She’s been married twice, and she’s still scared of rejection.

“What makes you think I wanna  _ blame  _ that on somethin’?” Gillian asks. “Jesus, Caroline.” She can’t find the words that’ll show Caroline what she’s thinking, so she holds the blonde woman’s shoulders and pulls her forwards to kiss her again.

Caroline melts into her and holds her waist gently, and they both know there’s no going back from this now.

“Wait, wait-” Caroline murmurs, pulling back and looking at Gillian seriously. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Gillian’s heart drops, and she looks between Caroline’s eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know if I can seriously commit to a woman who drinks wine from  _ mugs.” _

“You  _ fucking-”  _ Gillian begins, swatting Caroline’s arm, and then Caroline’s laughing and pulling her close and they’re kissing and laughing and it’s awkward but not and it’s the most comfortable Gillian thinks she’s ever been.

Caroline pulls away again, and Gillian dreads what she’s about to say. “Congratulations, by the way,” she mutters, and her eyes are alight with mischief.

Gillian stays silent, waiting for the inevitable punchline.

“On being bisexual.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is called nobody loves a spaceman because i'm a parody of myself and three of my fics are now titled with biffy clyro lyrics. i'm bad with titles.


End file.
